


Choice

by Rainbow_Femme



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Poison, lamen, my favorite combination, these nerds love each other so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 10:23:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6325288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbow_Femme/pseuds/Rainbow_Femme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damen sees a servant poison Laurent's cup and must decide what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choice

Damen was exhausted. With the regent and his brother now apparently working together, two prejudiced armies to keep under control, and Laurent being himself, he never seemed to have a moment of peace in the day. At least tonight, finally, he would have to himself. Laurent wished to not be disturbed as he poured over war strategy, Nikandros was handling their army for him, and by god if anyone bothered him for anything there would be hell and back to pay. He planned only on returning to his rooms and sleeping like the dead.

He stopped outside the kitchens as he passed, thinking to find something there to bring to his rooms, or perhaps ask for a meal to be sent up. The rich scents emanating from the kitchen made his mouth water as he drew inside, realizing he had not eaten since that morning. He had raised his knuckles to knock against the door, not wanting to frighten any common folk who were still getting used to referring to him as king, when he noticed a young boy upending a thick, clear liquid into a goblet, one he distinctly recognized as it was used only by the prince of Vere.

He could not believe his eyes. He knew there were people inside the fort who were not overly fond of the prince, many within his army, but he did not think any would go so far as to convince a child to assist in assassinating him. His stomach churned at the thought of people actively trying to kill Laurent in this place they thought they were safe. Or at least Damen thought they were safe. It was very probably Laurent assumed everyone a possible assassin waiting for their moment to strike.

He quickly backed out of the room, trying to think. He had to warn Laurent about the poison, obviously. He closed his eyes, taking a breath, trying to think like that infuriatingly brilliant Veretian mind. He could tell Laurent about the poison and Laurent would not drink it, and there would be no proof of wrongdoing and they would be no closer to finding the assassin. Laurent could make the boy drink it, but he knew his Akielons would be up in arms over a prince purposely poisoning a small boy who likely did not understand what he had done. A servant could drink it, but again he would be punishing an innocent for no reason other than to prove a point. No option was a good option...

Unless.

Unless Laurent did not know about the poison. Unless it was not Laurent who drank the poison.

He walked back towards the doors, moving loudly to announce his presence. The cook and his son bowed as he entered, their bodies blocking the goblet.

"Exalted, may we bring you something?"

"The prince shall be dining in my room this evening. Please bring his drink to my room along with wine for myself." He watched them both bow again, the boy adding another goblet to the tray, seemingly unaware of anything being amiss. His father as well seemed unperturbed, so he was not the would-be assassin. With no more excuse to stay, Damen tried to move quickly. He only had so much time before Laurent realized his usual glass was not being brought to him and he would ask why.

Damen grabbed onto Jord as he came around a corner, trying to keep his voice even and unaffected. He was sure he failed pitifully.

"Would you find Paschal and have him sent to my rooms?"

Jord nodded slowly, confused byt not stupid enough to defy a king. "Is your back bothering you, King Damianos?"

"I simply will require his services later this evening." He left with that, heading back to his rooms. He did not understand how Laurent could do this, day in and day out. How exhausting it must be, to have ten motives for every word, every movement. He was due even more credit than Damen gave him.

The walk to his rooms felt endless until he was there, when it seemed all too short.

He walked to the low table, already laden two golden goblets. One contained dark red wine, his own, and the other water, that for Laurent. He tried to tell himself this was not as dangerous as it seemed. That he had a physician on the way who could assist him. That Laurent would find the rat quicker than he ever could, that the Akielons would help to avenge an attempt on their king, that the Veretians would as well for they knew Akielos was their only hope to put their prince on his throne. That the poison would have been measured for Laurent, a much smaller man who would require less than a man Damen's size.

None of this made drinking poison any easier.

He lifted the glass, swirling the liquid. It did not look any different than normal water. There was no film on the top, nor residue sticking to the sides. It could easily have gone undetected had he not been there to witness it himself.

"Well," he said, bitterly. "Here goes nothing." He lifted the goblet, swallowing a mouthful.

At first he thought perhaps he had been wrong, that no poison had actually been added, or that it had been thrown out in exchange for normal water. The tension in his shoulders eased and he moved to set the goblet down and come up with an excuse for Paschal, but the table began shifting in front of him, the ground wavering as he tried to remain steady. His fingers slackened around the stem and the goblet slipped from his fingers, hitting the stone floor sharply and rolling out of view. He stumbled forward, reaching for the couch but missing, his hand seeming to go through it as he collapsed, knocking the table over as he did so.

\--

Laurent stretched, groaning as he heard a soft popping from his shoulder. He had been hunched in the same position for hours now, going over page after page of notes from Damen and their advisers on every possible route into Akielos. He ground his fists into his aching eyes, still swimming with supply lists and battle strategies and map after map of routes and forgotten passes. Where was the boy with his water? He'd had nothing much to drink since early that morning and the further south they went, the hotter it became to impossible extremes. Even in the middle of the night it was hot.

He could hear someone running towards his rooms. Perhaps it was a terrified servant come to apologize for the mistake. He did not have the energy to put any vitriol into whatever comments he might make, so they were lucky. He began gathering his papers, stacking them into a neat central pile.

"I don't care if you forgot, just bring it to me now, I am dying of thirst in this heat."

"Highness." It was not a servant, but a soldier. Laurent could not think of his name, but he recognized him from his own original group of men. Something red stained the knee of his left pant leg. "The king of Akielos, he has been poisoned."

Laurent ran, trying to think of what he could have missed. He always listened to the whispers, the rumors, the grievances aired behind closed doors when they thought no one could hear. He had heard nothing of this, nothing of a plot against Damen. He knew there were those who were not happy to pledge their loyalties to him, some who did not wish him on the thrown and threatening the Regent's claim, but any mutterings had been directed at him, not Damen.

And yet, there must have been. And he had missed them all.

The door was open and crowded, Nikandros trying to keep everyone out of the room, his face tight. Laurent wondered what the man must be feeling, having lost his friend to assassination only to have him back and risk losing him again in the same fashion.

Laurent pushed through, no one daring to tell a prince where he could and could not go. Especially not now, not when he was sure they had all heard they had taken each other as a lover once again. 

He had trained himself to take apart every problem by its pieces, reassembling them into a solution, always remaining detached. The room itself was a mess, wine soaking the ground and staining the fine Veretian rugs. A couch had been shoved back haphazardly, and a table knocked on its side, one leg broken. And there, lay the king of Akielos.

Paschal and Jord were holding him down by the shoulders, his limbs convulsing. Laurent could hear choking sounds on the other side of the room, a terrible red foam in Damen's mouth. Paschal looked up to Laurent.

"Get hold of him, I must make him drink this." Laurent dropped beside Damen, trying to prop his head up on his knees. He did not seem to notice Laurent was there, his eyes staring upwards at nothing. Paschal fished out a small vile and forced Damen's mouth open, emptying it inside. Laurent wondered briefly how he could have an antidote for an unknown poison, then realized it was no antidote.

Damen jerked and Laurent quickly helped turn him to his side as he vomited, the upended liquid a similar red to the foam. At the very least, it got the awful foam from his throat, though it did not stop the choking sounds. After a few moments, his body began to relax.

"Your highness, please lay him back down." Paschal spoke softly but with urgency, his eyes intent on Damen's face. Laurent moved back, letting Damen back down. He did not understand why Paschal wanted more space, unless perhaps he wanted to make Damen vomit again. His breath was softer now, less labored. Laurent felt weak, his arms without any strength left in them. At least it was over.

But Paschal was not looking for a new vial, he was situating himself over Damen's waist, watching his face. Laurent wanted his mind to stop, to not comprehend what was happening, what would happen next, but it could not turn off years of training. 

Damen was not relaxing because enough poison got out. He was relaxing because enough was still inside.

Laurents hand was still resting on Damen's throat when it happened. He felt the fluttering beneath his fingers cease, the windpipe contracting without expanding again. Paschal began pressing down on his ribcage rhythmically. Laurent could not move if he wanted to, feeling the halted, artificial beating beneath his fingers.

He looked like Auguste had. The two were so different physically he would not have thought they could ever look similar, but now he felt as if he were looking at them both. Limp, the color drained from his face, a line of blood coming from the corner of his mouth. Once he would have dreamed of this day, of Damen poisoned and lifeless in front of him. Had a missive from Akielos come a year ago with such news, he might have kissed Nicaise out of happiness. But he had refused to be the man Laurent had wanted him to be. And now he had the nerve to die. Just like Auguste. He leaned forward, hissing into Damen’s ear.

“If you die I swear I will find you and kill you again for doing this. You are not going to die, not when we are so close to ending this.” He did not have to see the faces of the watchers to know they were horrified. It was known that they had taken one another as lovers again, and everyone in the room would be horrified at his cold heart in the face of Damianos dying. If it were reversed and Damen were beside him as he was poisoned, he knew it would have been nothing but heartfelt confessions of his feelings mixed with tears. That is what they wanted of him.

But Laurent could not make himself say those things. Not in front of others, maybe not even in front of Damen. He had to keep control here, he could not let these people see him break. No one could see that he felt his heart was going to beat out of his chest as seconds ticked by and Damen remained motionless.

He had nearly accepted that he was truly gone when Damen gave a jerk and began coughing and gasping for breath. Paschal quickly moved off, inducing more vomiting to try and rid him of any more poison that he could. Laurent noticed that the small amount of liquid Damen choked out was not red, as it should have been. If his wine had been poisoned, why-

Laurent turned, looking underneath the disheveled couch. A second goblet. His own, with a small puddle of water surrounding the overturned cup. Not nearly as much spilled as there was wine from the other overturned goblet.

And then there was Paschal, who had somehow gotten to the rooms before he had when he was merely a few rooms away.

He remained kneeling on the floor as Damen was moved to his bed and servants began to clean the room, working around him as he did not move.

\--

Damen felt terrible. His head was killing him, his whole body felt bruised, and his throat felt scraped raw. He groaned as he was drug up unwillingly form unconsciousness by a thin stream of light hitting his eyes, the first ray of sun somehow finding his face alone to strike.

His head was not resting against a pillow as he had thought it would be, but something firmer. It took him a moment to realize what it was, then another to convince himself it was actually true.

He was propped up slightly and resting against Laurent’s abdomen, the prince himself asleep behind him, one had resting on his arm with the other wrapped around over his stomach.

When they had shared a bed Laurent had been happy to press their bodies together, and he had no shame in letting soldiers and servants see them naked with one another, but this public show of tenderness was not something Damen had expected. When they were with others, they remained separate from one another.

A knock came from the door and he turned as much as he could, groaning again. He had hit the marble floors quite hard, he imagined. Paschal was entering the room with a few vials filled with liquids Damen did not think would taste wonderfully.

“It is good to see you are awake, Exalted. We were all incredible worried.” He held out one of the vials and Damen took it as best he could and drank it, grimacing at the acrid taste. The poison was more pleasurable.

“He has been quite worried about you, you know. Hardly left your side, insisted that we should fetch him were you to awake while he was away.”

Damen drank the next thing he was offered, wondering if the diligence was out of care or not wanting any time wasted from the moment Damen woke to the moment Laurent could punish him for the idiocy of drinking poison. He did not hope Laurent’s keen eyes would have missed the clues of what he had done.

Speaking of the prince of Vere, Damen noticed that his chest was not rising and falling as it had been before. It was now not as deep or as slow, but more measured. So he was awake then, and feigning sleep until they were alone. He felt a soft pinch on his arm, a promise that he was probably right about that punishment coming as soon as Paschal left. He tried to drink more slowly to keep the physician in the room longer.

However it was decided that the king needed his rest to recover from the poison and they were left alone. They both lie still a moment, drawing out the inevitable just a little more, before he was whacked on the side of the head with a flat palmed slap.

“Ow! You’re not supposed to abuse the injured.” Laurent slid out from beneath him, letting him fall backwards against the pillows. He did not seem pleased.

“You-“ His voice was ragged, his hands clenched, as if for once he had to fight to keep his composure. “You knew.”

“I-“

“You _knew_ it was poisoned, you _knew_ it was meant for me and you drank it anyway without even telling me. Without even consulting me! I could have thought of a hundred alternatives to your idiotic plan-“

“Were they any better than mine?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Of course they were! Why would drinking poison be the best option?”

He did not answer, simply looked at Laurent steadily, waited. Laurent huffed.

“Obviously there could have been other alternatives, things we could have done-“

“Has the man been caught?”

“Yes, we have him under arrest.”

“Am I still alive?”

Laurent narrowed his eyes, grudging. “Barely.”

“So it seems all turned out well, I do not see what the problem is. I did not die-“

“You _did_ die!” Laurent dug his nails into the sheets, eyes furious. “I watched you die, I felt it when your heart stopped beating against my hand. You had the absolute nerve to drink my poison without telling me, without even asking for my opinion, and then you went and let yourself die! You left me here alone, to face my uncle and your brother alone. Don’t you think they could have found a way to blame me for your death as well? Just another crime they could add onto my sentence?”

Damen waited for him to finish, his chest heaving, his control gone. He did not remember any time he had truly seen Laurent stripped so bare of his protection to let himself lose it like this. Only the death of Nicaise had affected him similarly. And his only way of coping had been to beg Damen to stay with him. He had not expected this to affect him this way.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, Laurent,” he said finally. “I did not mean for you to be hurt by this. I did this so that you would not be hurt. I could not risk something happening to you, to risk you drinking the poison. You are more necessary to this mission than I am. You are the only one who can take down your uncle, the only one who can outsmart him and Jokaste and keep our countries safe.”

Laurent took a deep breath, held it, then slowly let it out, his body sagging as the breath left him. He sat beside Damen, not looking at him.

“Dying is not good for your brain, you know.” Damen smiled a little at this. “I would say you should be worried, but if you think you are so unnecessary in this venture then you must not have much at all to lose.” Damen laughed and Laurent turned to him then. “All of this, everything we have accomplished, is only because I have you with me. It is only because I have you that I have any measure of a chance against my uncle. And if you think that this is the only reason that I keep you around, that I only care for your well being due to strategy…” He swallowed thickly, struggling. “I had thought I had made my feelings plain on this matter.”

Damen reached over, taking Laurent’s hand in his. “If I seem like I do not believe what you feel, it is only because it is difficult to believe myself worthy of such feelings.”

Laurent looked at their hands, letting their finger twine together. He did not say anything more and Damen did not expect him to. They simply sat together quietly, holding onto one another as the sun began to rise outside their window.


End file.
